


The First Time

by Covinskey



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Dark, Death, Gen, Violence, its a little graphic but not too bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 10:26:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4825529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Covinskey/pseuds/Covinskey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hilbert's first murder</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smilodonmeow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilodonmeow/gifts).



> My first Wolf 359 fic! Critism is welcome, particularly on characterization.

He had been trained in this for a long time. All the pressure points, the weaknesses in the body. He had shot, stabbed, strangled dummies. A real person would be inconsequential. Simpler, even.

The AI was simple software, easily misled or reprogrammed. A few lines of code left Ficher out in the dark in time for a meteor storm.

Lambert was suspicious, very difficult to take care of. But, as the order was given, the mission was executed.

Hui had a habit of munching protein bars in the lab. Very easy to add a few drops of a severe flu and watch the effects take place.

Fourier was the most difficult. Her victory was unexpected and the order urgent. Once cornered a single, sudden motion of violence left her dead. The body went silently out the airlock.

These were the murders. But they weren’t the first.

**********

He had been on earth, in America, preparing for the mission. His future colleges were being trained, how to operate in zero gravity, how to operate the ship, basic things. Selburg didn’t need these things.

Instead, he was being instructed on basic combat. Simple, really. Balance, impact, momentum. First grade physics in application.

He won, after a fashion, pinning his opponent to the floor. Bruises would form along his limbs and across his torso, the first few weeks onboard the ship would be spent hiding them.

“Well done, doctor,” praised the whoever had been watching them. “Now kill him.”

He had hesitated, had seen the shock in the face of the man beneath him.

“Kill him now, Doctor.”

Instead of pinning the man’s hands, Selburg wrapped his fingers around his throat and squeezed. The man struggled, clawed at his wrists, his fingers, his face. He made awful noises, such horrific noises, as he struggled to draw in breath after breath. His eyes bulged, then rolled back. Then closed. The hands fell. The noises stopped.

“Well done, Doctor Selburg.”

He stood up, staring at the corpse. He didn’t feel quite right.

“Doctor Selburg?”

“Das?”

“Do you know what you did?”

It wasn’t an accusation, it was a question. “Followed orders.”

He got a clap on the shoulder. “That’s my man! Go take the night off, you deserve it.”

And it was true. He had followed orders. He had done exactly as he had been told. He had done good.

Selburg went to a crowded bar that night, and thought about how easy it had been. Just a squeeze of the fingers. A man, young, early twenties, was making a ruckus. But it was the sort of bar in which a mild ruckus might be tolerable, so he pretended to smile when the young man in question fell into him.

How easy would it be, to slide one hand under the jaw, the other round the back of the head, and twist in a single fluid motion.

But the impulse passed, the drunk laughed it off and ran away to his friends, and Selburg made a decision. He would not kill. It would not be murder. He would follow orders. Because there would be consequences if he failed. So he followed orders.

He returned to his lodgings and slept.

 

 


End file.
